


Humming

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21728827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ray wakes Philip up.
Relationships: Ray Green/Philip Pearson | Traveler 3326
Kudos: 14





	Humming

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Ray’s a shit singer. 

It comes out loud, obnoxious, and it wakes Philip up—he squints through the dim light of the warehouse and can easily calculate how far away Ray is, because Ray announces his presence every step of the way. Then the bawdy lyrics cut off, abruptly muffled, as the washroom door slides shut. Philip snorts against his pillow and wonders if he should try to fall back to sleep.

It’s probably not worth it. Ray will keep on singing when he gets out. It’s too noisy to sleep through. The unsteady beat makes him sound almost drunk, even though Philip’s made sure he stays sober. They’re _both_ staying sober. Philip didn’t sing like that even when he was high.

The door draws back—Ray’s singing again. It’s incredibly annoying.

But also kind of endearing. 

And it makes Philip’s chest swell with a knot of emotion that takes him a second to decode. It makes no sense. He doesn’t even like the melody. Then he realizes what it is—why hearing Ray belt out bad music gives him butterflies.

It means Ray’s _happy_.

And nobody sings anymore in the future.

They remember old songs. Some dusty music players have lasted. But there are no _new_ songs, because everyone’s too busy trying to survive to create new art. And singing aloud requires a certain sense of hope Philip’s people lost decades ago.

Now Ray’s his people, and Ray wanders back into the bedroom, looking glorious in just his boxers leftover from last night. He’s whistling until he spots Philip’s eyes peering up at him. Then he stumbles to a halt at the side of the bed, shutting up before muttering, “Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Philip knows he probably looks insane for smiling at being rudely woken up. He’s not normally a morning person. But he smiles anyway. He mumbles, “S’Fine. Keep singing.”

Ray lifts a brow, wrinkling his forehead, but he grins. Philip holds out an arm, because he needs that happiness closer to him. Ray snorts and crawls right back into the dent he left, serenading Philip like a drunken procession straight from heaven itself.


End file.
